


Weighted

by Flick (raynon)



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Gen, Party Poison has depression, Whump, pre-Girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25320742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynon/pseuds/Flick
Summary: Leading a gang of Killjoys isn't always milkshakes, especially when danger is constantly in the corner of your eye. Sometimes the weight of failure catches up to you. (rated t for language)
Relationships: Fun Ghoul & Jet Star & Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Weighted

Party Poison couldn’t sleep on his back. He was never able to before, and he certainly couldn’t now. Not with Kobra’s head nestled on his left shoulder. He turned his head slowly to check on him again, though nothing had changed since last he looked minutes ago. Kobra was usually the lightest sleeper of them all, accounting on his trained reflexes, but Jet had given him some smuggled pain pills after the Kid broke his ankle during the last clap.

It was a rough one. Not only did Kobra limp out of it injured, but Ghoul’s face got royally fucked up. Poison suppressed a shudder remembering images that were still far too vivid of Korse’s knife against the corner of Ghoul’s mouth. A hand vicegripping the joy’s throat to keep him in place.

_ “What’s the matter? I thought your motto was ‘keep smiling’, wasn’t it?” _

Even when it happened, it felt like an out-of-body experience to Poison. He couldn’t even fathom what Ghoul was feeling through it all. The flashes came in waves: a black spot smoking off the shoulder of Korse’s tailored jacket. Dracs falling back to their vans. The shining white truck they’d planned to rob disappearing back behind the safe walls of Bat City. Jet kneeling at Kobra’s side.

Ghoul curled up pathetically in the sand.

“Pois?” A whisper snapped Poison back into the dark room. He twitched and inhaled sharply.

“Yo, Poison.” Jet propped his head up from behind Kobra, who he was protectively curled up behind. “Get outta there, it’s not good for you.”

Poison didn’t look at him at first; instead his face turned the other way where Ghoul lay as comfortably as he could. There was still gauze taped to the bomber’s jaw, and his brow was knotted hard.

“We’re gonna get better, y’know,” Jet spoke up again, albeit still softly. “We’re all still here.”

Poison swallowed. “But it was a closer call than ever.” His jaw clenched for a moment, and it looked like he was trying to burn holes in the ceiling with his stare. “We shoulda been better prepared, though. I was in over my head.”

Jet reached over Kobra to poke at Poison’s side. “We’re not gonna come outta every clap clean. It’s just what we do. Worrying about what already happened’s gonna drive ya off-road.

“People were--” Poison bit down hard on the tip of his tongue. He could feel his throat ache with the threat of cracking, but he might as well finish his thought. “--depending on us. And what we managed to snatch, we just fucking used it on ourselves.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we had to. Shit goes more lopsided than you think.” Jet sighed, glancing down at Kobra. “You managed to bring us all home, though.”

“I know.” Poison shut his eyes, and gave a faint nod. “I know, Jet. Thanks.”

Jet fell quiet. He knew his words didn’t reach Poison, not fully, and he could tell that trying to nail the affirmation in would frustrate him more. Maybe it just needed to process more. “It’s okay, Pois.”

There was something different to Jet’s voice, then, and Poison could tell he wasn’t talking about the clap anymore. He felt it in the pit of his chest, like the words were the key to a floodgate. He choked on a sob, which lessened to a squeak. His chin crinkled, breath shakily expelling itself from his lungs as the tears started. His free hand reached up to press against his forehead, and his lips parted to breathe easier through it.

It wasn’t that Poison didn’t know how they could continue on like this; they were going to, regardless, until the Witch would lead them somewhere better. It was the sight of Ghoul’s head in his lap, red staining white jeans as grunts of angry pain cut through silence. It was the sight of his own brother looking like a ragdoll in Jet’s arms. Poison tried against all his will not to imagine him bereft of breath.

He had to take responsibility. He was in charge of these fuckers. They entrusted their trust in  _ him, _ and he got them hurt. Ghoul was going to have to eat everything through a straw for the next few weeks, for fuck’s sake.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” Jet decided, and uncurled himself from Kobra to roll off the mattress. It also gave Poison some time to let whatever he needed to out without someone looming over him.

Poison’s ribs felt like they were going to cave in his lungs. He still had to consider not waking anyone up, but his mind was blaring sirens. His hand slid down over his eyes, and he crooned and swallowed and coughed and he felt fucking  _ ugly _ .

There was a small weight that pressed itself against his sternum. His chest rose and fell erratically, the panic growing, but the weight vanished until he felt a pull on his arm.

Ghoul removed Poison’s hand from his eyes so he could lock gazes with him. He couldn’t find anything to say, even if Poison only seemed to cry harder at the revelation that he’d woken Ghoul up.

“I’m sorry,” Poison croaked. “M’so sorry, Ghoul.”

Ghoul merely shook his head and pulled himself up to press his forehead against Poison’s sweat-damp temple. He reached up to brush cherry red tendrils of hair back. “Shut up,” he mumbled, and continued to stroke Party’s hair until the sobbing finally dulled down.

Jet padded back in and sat down cross-legged by Party’s head. He held a flask over him. “So you can drink lying down.”

Party blinked and took a small, experimental sip at first. Good, it was just water, and just in time when an ache bloomed behind his brow. Party nursed the flask, though. He knew better than to take in too much at once.

“You okay?” Jet couldn’t help but ask.

Party licked his lips, lightly leaning into Ghoul’s nose against his cheek. “Could be worse.”

Jet nodded and shifted to return to his place on the mattress. “That’s a start.”

Ghoul rested his hand on Poison’s chest again, taking in his pulse as his eyes closed again. He was out in a matter of a minute, but the sounds of his soft snoring amused Poison in the strangest way.

The Fab Four were okay, at least for another night. That’s all that mattered.

* * *

The next morning, Jet and Ghoul were in the corner of the kitchen trying to make Power Pup more palatable by any means. So far, they were experimenting with salt and garlic powder. Kobra remained sitting on the mattress, his injured leg stretched out before him. Poison knelt in front of him, checking his vitals and pupil dilation. Kobra sat patiently through the examination, though he clearly wanted it to be over.

“I still feel things. I really don’t think there’s any BLi suppressant shit in there. Or, at least not enough for one dose,” Kobra rattled off. “Go on. Ask me anything.”

“Better to be super sure, Kid.” Poison sat back on his heels, smiling lazily. “Looks good so far, though.”

“You don’t,” Kobra mumbled.

Poison blinked. “What?”

“You, uh,” Damn, Kobra let his thoughts slip. He rubbed an eye and huffed quietly. “You’re not lookin’ too revved, if I’m being honest. And you’re the morning person.”

Poison just shrugged casually and shifted down to get a better look at Kobra’s ankle. Two wooden stakes were duct taped around the sides of it to keep it steady. “I’m shiny, cross my heart. How bad does it hurt?”

Kobra didn’t answer at first. He could see the lingering redness in Poison’s eyes, he could hear the quiet sniffles he desperately tried to hide. “You tell me.”

“Kobra, stop playin’. I’m tryin’ to help you,” Poison warned him.

“I heard you last night.”

Poison’s gaze snapped up.

Kobra reached out for his brother’s wrist to hold. “You did as well as you could yesterday. We all did. Every time we skirt the city is like flirting with death. If I didn’t stop that Drac, you would’ve been laser-brained in a white bag right now. And I’d rather hobble around for a bit instead of runnin’ without you.”

Poison decided to focus back on the ankle as Kobra spoke, and he scoffed. He forced his smile wider. “You should really cut your fuckin’ toenails more often.”

“You just told me to stop playing.” Kobra’s voice got firmer, and he tugged on Poison’s wrist. “So give me the same fuckin’ respect for a second. You don’t always have to be the big brother. Look at me.”

Poison’s body tensed, and when he raised his face, the chipper morning attitude melted into exhaustion and worry. “...Thanks for protecting me yesterday.”

“We look out for each other,” Kobra reminded him. “Dumbass.”

Accepting defeat, Poison crawled onto the mattress to bury his face in Kobra’s shoulder. He hated getting worked up again, but Kobra’s collar ended up with a few damp spots on it anyway. “I don’t want you t’see me scared.”

“You think I give a shit?” Kobra nudged Poison’s arm. “Show me. Listen, I know you got this poster-boy complex, given’ everyone out there hope and all, but we’re different.  _ I’m _ different, Poison. Fuck. I’ve already seen more than anyone else. Cramming all that down’s gonna send you to the Witch faster.”

“I’m sorry.” Poison dug his palm into his eye socket to dry the tears. “Okay. I’ll...take it easier ‘round you.”

Kobra reached to wipe Poison’s other eye. “We got this.”

“Guess those pills really don’t have any BLi suppressants in ‘em after all.” Poison’s smile slowly started coming back.

“Alright, chow’s ready!” Ghoul called from the doorway, grinning behind the gauze He approached the mattress with two small bowls of breakfast. “Jet and I call this Drac Killer.”

“I claimed no such thing,” Jet responded as he raised a hand at chest level. “But we tried to make it so Kid doesn’t gag on the stuff for once.”

Kobra stuck his tongue out.

Party straightened his posture and took a bowl from Ghoul. He gave a little shake of his head and shoulders, and smiled back. “Alright. What’s the plan for today?”


End file.
